


Robin and Midnight Kit

by BrokenWingedTenshi



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Badass Sabine Cheng, Bruce Wayne Loves Selina Kyle, Confident Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Damian Wayne Feels, F/F, F/M, Gen, Good Parent Selina Kyle, Jason Todd Deserves Better, M/M, Multi, Other, Protective Bruce, Protective Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenWingedTenshi/pseuds/BrokenWingedTenshi
Summary: Raised as one of the most loyal servants of Talia al Ghul and trained with her son, Miyuki Diane Cappello (originally named Marinette Dupain-Cheng) is the only girl in Nanda Parbat that Damian Wayne can stand. So when he finds himself leaving for Gotham with her as protection, he can live with it. Even when she joins Selina Kyle-Wayne as a cat instead of Bruce Wayne as a bird.All those warnings likely aren't necessary, but better safe than sorry. This fic will be a little grittier and more realistic than the others. Feel free to give constructive criticism!
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd
Comments: 69
Kudos: 500





	1. Chapter 1 : Al Ghul

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [BadWolfTen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfTen/pseuds/BadWolfTen). Log in to view. 



-Damian : 8 yrs old

-Miyuki : 13 yrs old

Walking three steps behind her mistress as she was taught, the small girl of widely speculated parentage followed dutifully. As she had done since she learned to walk. As she would continue to do as long as the woman would have her. She needed to be useful. Survival of the fittest was the way of the League. Those who served no purpose would die.

Following into the yard where the heir of the demon and the rest of the next generation of the League were training, she kept her eyes to the backs of her mistress' shoes. It was habit by this point. She was not to look at the heir save brief glimpses before she ducked her head. In those brief glimpses she had memorized everything about him. Not that anyone needed to know that. Mistress Talia said she was to tell no one that she could do such with just a glance. It was their little secret.

"Cease fighting. Now. From now on, we will have a new opponent for Damian . . . Miyuki, step forward."

She did as she was ordered, drawing the curved blades she always carried with her from their sheaths. They had done this before. But never had it been this public. The rest of the fighters in the courtyard had stopped their training to turn their attention over to the pair. Damian, who sized up his opponent the way he always did, and Miyuki, who was visualizing him in her mind and recalling techniques he'd used in their last match.

"Damian, pick up a real blade."

His eyes had widened a fraction, but he did as he was told. The eight year old picked up a real blade, slipping easily into his usual stance. Across from him, his new opponent stepped up and took a calming breath.

He knew she'd been having panic attacks lately. Late at night when no one would ever know but her. And sometimes, him. He'd found her a few times and helped to coax her out of these attacks, and each time she would relocate her panic spot. Eventually, he always found her again. Still, she insisted on running. Though he couldn't say he didn't understand. Weakness in their ranks, even in the young, was punishable by death.

Miyuki knew that better than anyone. She was brought in as a very small child. Not even his age if he remembered correctly. The family she'd been born into had quite an . . . interesting relationship with the league.

Her grandmother Madam Cappello had been a member of the league. When she had fallen in love with a man from France, she'd been released from her service by a younger, kinder Ra's al Ghul, who had been in love with her in an unselfish way. Before he'd been deprived of that feeling by the Lazarus Pits. She had still kept in touch, careful not to give away too much. Never enough to find her as she sent letters from all over the world.

Eventually, Madam Cappello had borne a daughter. Her husband had been killed just a scant month before the birth of her daughter, in such a way that anyone from the League would know it was her. After the death, she gave birth and returned to Nanda Parbat. She was still the same woman, and was welcomed warmly by Ra's himself and his own daughter Talia. She was only a year and a half old, and already she had been learning all about the League and their history. They were her bedtime stories.

Talia and Ajira had grown up together, with Ajira being her most loyal friend and playmate. They learned together. Trained together. Laughed at the boys as they bested them together. It was them against the world. Even against Ra's when they got into mischief. They were terrors, and he was proud. He almost viewed Ajira as a second daughter . . . almost. Madam Cappello remained his most trusted advisor and sometimes lover if he was of a mind, but love was out of the question for either of them. For anyone besides their respective children.

When Ajira had learned what her mother did to her father (though not what her father had done to deserve it), she had defected. Run off to Paris to find her father's family. She had lived with them for a time. Spared only because Talia had a plan to cause the most pain to her traitorous childhood playmate. A kind of pain only a woman could understand.

Ajira had changed her name. She was Sabine Cheng, using her father's last name. And she lived an average life. Worked in a bakery and married the son of the bakers who'd hired her. She had an ordinary wedding, and an ordinary childbirth. And when her daughter was four years old and Ajira had gotten four years to love and adore her daughter (which would make this all the more devastating), Talia had gone into their home and left with the little girl walking dutifully on shaky legs behind her.

In the house she'd left behind, the little girl's mother sobbed. Her husband was attempting to comfort her, and she vowed vengeance on the League of Assassins. And specifically on Talia al Ghul. The little girl, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, had been renamed Miyuki Diane Cappello (because the only thing she had ever asked of her lady was to be allowed to keep her initials if at all possible, and it had nothing to do with her parents) and become Talia's handmaiden. She remade the child in her image, and the girl did not disappoint her. She had a brilliant mind, an idetic memory, and could best any person, puzzle or enemy force put before her.

Damian knew all this. He knew that from that point on they'd taken every possible precaution to ensure that she didn't end up like her mother. She was raised by Talia and Madam Cappello, and she was given the whole story of her grandmother's past, as well as her mother's. She understood. She viewed it in a cool, detached way that Ra's al Ghul himself commended her for. She had bowed her thanks with a brief impish grin and gone silent, which further impressed the adults. She understood much more than they gave her credit for. She knew that as easily as she had been taken from her cowardly parents, she could be dead. She was meticulously perfect. Which was all she ever could be.

He remembered a conversation he'd been allowed to sit in on between the girl and his grandfather three years before when she was ten, more for his benefit than hers. He was to be the head of the demon. If he wanted to wear that mantle, he was told, this was the girl to emulate. She was told to raise her head, that she may gaze upon her leader. She respectfully did so, nearly reverent as she focused on his face. Not his eyes though. Never his eyes.

"I thank you for the honor my lord."

He had nodded his affirmative, watching her her a look that was the closest he ever got to impressed. She looked upon him dutifully, though she seemed quite pleased. He couldn't tell if she really was or if she was putting on a show. Ra's proceeded with the conversation.

"Tell me young Cappello girl, what do you make of your current living situation here with the League of Assassins? What do you make of your parents? You have my permission to speak freely, that the demon and the future head may hear your true intent."

She didn't hesitate to answer.

"My lord, I only hope that the cowardice of my birth parents and the foolish notion of love over loyalty does not reflect on me. The only family I have now is the league. Should anyone threaten that family, I will be perfectly willing and happy to slay them. Should I ever run across my birth vessel or her sniveling mate, it would bring me the utmost pleasure to end their lives by my own hand."

Ra's and, behind the girl, Talia, looked positively gleeful. Talia gestured to someone off to one side, who dragged in a man and woman. The woman was short, with dirty midnight hair and purple bruises blossoming on her pale skin. The man was large and bulky, and it took two people to drag him in. He looked hunched in on himself, like he was trying to hide. It didn't work very well for him, and Marinette chuckled darkly when her gaze met their broken forms. Ra's spoke to her again.

"Well, girl? Will you be able to back up your words with action?"

He gaze returned to her leader, bowing low. Deathstroke himself came to hand her a sword, which her eyes flashed with malicious joy at. She took it carefully. Reverently. Approaching her parents at a prowl, she watched as their eyes filled with fear, raising the borrowed sword. It came down lightning fast, toward her father's neck. A split second before contact, Ra's ordered her to stop.

The sword stopped its descent, and Miyuki tilted her head in question.

"My lord? What are your orders?"

She questioned calmly, holding the sword a hairsbreadth away from her father's neck. Ra's almost smiled, leaning his elbow on his chair arm and setting his chin on it.

"Give the sword back to Deathstroke and say goodbye to your parents."

Miyuki turned back to Deathstroke, giving him the sword and bowing low.

"Thank you for the use of your blade."

The man nodded, sliding it into its sheath and turning. With a bow to Ra's, he was gone. Miyuki turned to her parents, narrowing her eyes.

" . . . Mother, you could've thrived here. But you let some preconceived notion of love cloud your judgement. You let an unfinished story break your loyalty to the League. You deserted . . . you disgust me. You and your pitiful mate. If I ever see you again, it will be too soon. Goodbye coward."

Ra's gestured for the two to be taken away, watching as they called out for their daughter. Only Damian saw the flicker of remorse that flashed in her eyes and was gone. Her gaze flickered to him momentarily, before returning to her feet. Once his mother and grandfather returned their gazes to her, they saw only what she let them see. Perfection. 

"It is easy to kill those you despise. It is far harder to stop yourself. To wait for permission or denial. It is near impossible to resist the sweet temptation of spilling blood. You do your name and your grandmother proud."

She bowed her thanks and was dismissed with a wave of a hand from Ra's. 

"That, grandson, is the type of person you will need by your side. The type of loyalty you will need to inspire. When you choose a mate, be sure you pick someone who emulates that kind of loyalty and control."

Damian simply nodded. He would keep what he'd seen to himself.

He remembered all of this in the split second Miyuki took to position herself and attack. She came right at him before ducking off to his left and striking out with her leg. He blocked her easily, and struck a blow of his own. It didn't matter to him that she was a girl, or that the way she sometimes looked at him on those late nights where she panicked were sometimes the only reason he got out of bed in the morning. It didn't matter that since the last time he'd caught himself mentally referring to her as his al'ukht alkubraa. All that mattered was the here and now as he struck for her middle.

Miyuki danced around his blade and his limbs, striking back just as agile and ruthless as she was trained to be. He watched her movements, but it wasn't to track her, or to try and figure out her next move. He was simply entranced by her. She really was perfect.

She dodged around him like she was made of water. When he landed a blow, she would turn it to her advantage to strike a return blow. They cut, bruised and took the breath from each other for nearly two hours before the match was called a draw.

Talia announced that they would begin private training the next day, and everyone was given the rest of the day as leisure time. Everyone cheered as Talia left, and Miyuki slipped away in the chaos. Damian tried to find her for hours, but he never did. She'd slipped away again.

Damian : 10 yrs old

Miyuki : 15 yrs old

When Deathstroke had begun plotting his coup, Miyuki had noticed. Damian had noticed. They had gone to Talia . . . and Talia had ignored them. So while they were not surprised by their current situation, they were quite annoyed. Ra's had been defeated, his body too damaged for the Lazarus Pits to help him this time. The head of the demon was dead. And their home was overrun by traitors.

Talia had brought her son and her favorite student on a very long trip. From Nanda Parbat back in Pakistan, to Gotham City in America. They knew precisely where the were and why (she'd explained to them on the trip) but neither really cared. Miyuki, or Marinette as she'd been told to go by while she was outside Nanda Parbat, stared over the railing of the boat toward the dirty, crime ridden city that would be her new home.

She didn't hate it, but it wasn't anything like what she was used to. She knew it wasn't what Damian was used to either. Truthfully, she was more worried about him than herself. He had opted to stay below deck and pace across his chamber, rather than enjoying the fresh air. She knew how he hated uncertainty, and nothing about his situation was certain at the moment. He was about to meet a father he'd barely ever heard about, go into a city he'd had no time to do thorough research on, and deal with unknown possible adversaries in his father's wards. He didn't know if he would ever return home to be the head of the demon as he'd been raised to be. Or if he'd ever have the life he'd envisioned when he thought about the future.

She had to agree that in his position, she would be nervous too. As it was, she was alone aside from Talia and Damian now. The coup had claimed her grandmother's life along with that of Ra's. If she ever saw Deathstroke again she'd end him with her bare hands. Which had been growing increasingly stronger as she grew. In her dreams, she communed with strange creatures that called her far away. She could feel them growing closer as time went on, until she could use fragments of their power for herself. Another secret she and Talia kept to themselves.

When the boat docked, Talia asked Marinette to get Damian ready to meet his father and keep him on the boat. She simply nodded her head and went below deck. It wasn't at all surprising to find him still pacing. She shifted uncomfortably at the close quarters, leaning against the wall with a soft sigh.

"If you keep that up Shaytan, you're going to wear a hole through the floor and sink the boat. Then how would mistress Talia get back to lead in the elimination of our recent pest control problem?"

Damian paused, running a hand back through messy black hair that Marinette felt the urge to smooth down. He turned emerald green eyes her way, clouded with uncertainty. She ached to comfort him, but it would be out of her place . . . so she didn't.

"I apologize Malak. It's just . . . it's all quite frustrating. All the lessons and the years of training just like the older combatants only for them to treat us like _**children**_ when it actually mattered! And because they did not listen, we lost family. We lost friends. We came close to losing our _**lives**_! And then instead of letting us take care of the miserable vermin that have infested our home, we've been shipped off to this miserable place to live with a rich _**idealist**_ who _can't stop picking up strays!"_

Marinette, just this once, abandoned her rule of not touching him. Still, she would let him choose what he would allow. He sat down on his bed, and she sat next to him on his left, bringing up her left hand to gently grasp one of his in his lap. He paused for a moment, but leaned over and laid his head on her shoulder. She put her arm around him gently, and he seemed to deflate a little, and Marinette was reminded, not for the first time since this trip had begun, that he was only a child, five whole years younger than her and this was all new to him.

 _ **Gotham**_ was new.

 _ **Uncertainty**_ was new.

 _ **Grief**_ was new.

She really hoped his father could help him. At least a little. But then, what were the chances that he would let anyone help him beyond what he was allowing her to do right now?

Damian was a stubborn boy. He was taught that he was superior. That those who opposed him should die. That he needed nothing and no one. That the head of the demon could never be defeated. So all of this was against everything he'd ever learned. 

When Talia returned, they could hear her. It was slightly nauseating for Damian, hearing her talk about the night she and his father has shared . . . to his father . . . with him in the next room. Marinette just chuckled at his playful gagging. Damian couldn't help the small smile that tugged across his features. He hadn't seen her smile once this whole trip. But then- she'd lost the only family she had. Her parents would never take her back. She'd essentially disowned them as a goodbye. She had no one but he and his mother now, and she had been transported across the ocean away from her home for . . . what exactly?

Marinette huffed softly, tapping his hand three times and waiting for him to move first. He stood and straightened his clothes out, taking her hand and leading her to stand before the curtain that separated where they were from his mother and- apparently- his father. 

When the curtain was opened and Damian stepped forward, Marinette stayed three steps behind him with her eyes scanning the outsider. She had expected him to show up in his vigilante gear. After all, her mistress was quite dangerous. He wouldn't have known what he was walking into. Narrowed ocean eyes assessed the man, and Talia introduced Damian.

"You expect me to believe this?"

He looked like he was about to get up, and Marinette slipped forward and held a blade just under his chin. Her narrowed ocean eyes met Bruce Wayne's own slightly startled expression. 

"You will speak with more respect to my mistress and the young lord."

All were silent for a moment, Talia grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Damian just shook his head. Rolling his eyes slightly at his mother, he turned back to the situation before them.

"Marinette. Enough."

She sheathed her blade and moved swiftly back to her place behind Damian, eyes never leaving Bruce Wayne. Talia just chucked softly.

"My apologies. Marinette is quite protective of us. Think of her as a contingency plan. If my son gets hurt, every last one of your wards suffers her wrath. They grew up together, like brother and sister. She was there when Damian was born. I can promise you that it won't be pretty."

Marinette showed a chilling smile, and Bruce stood from his seat. Talia just continued speaking as though he hadn't moved.

"This will only be temporary, of course. Just until the pest control problem back at the League is taken care of. Take good care of your son until I return."

Marinette noticed the change from _my_ son to _your_ son, but said nothing. Damian proceeded out and off the ship, and she followed dutifully. She was quite tired from the long journey, but ignored this in favor of watching on in amused silence as Damian addressed the approaching Batman.

"I'll drive."

Batman stared at him for a moment.

" . . . No."

"I know how."

"No."

Well this would be in interesting.


	2. The Wards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette only had one thought as they pulled into the bat cave. Bruce Wayne had way too much money.

By the time Bruce and Damian had exited the bat mobile, Marinette was making her way up the stairs to the manor itself with her single bag slung casually over her shoulder. In her other hand, she held Damian's suitcase. She ignored his protests as he caught up to her, watching with a vaguely amused expression as a slightly familiar man opened up the door.

"Agent A"

She gave a brief nod in passing, before turning to face Damian and wait for Bruce. Alfred, for his part, smiled at her.

"Young miss Cappello. Always a pleasure. Might I ask what you're doing here?"

Chucking softly, Marinette just shrugged her shoulders.

"Apparently your master is the father of my young lord. The League was overthrown by a coup, and mistress Talia brought us here to keep Damian out of harm's way. You can imagine how well that's gone over."

Damian scowled at her, and she could see the impending hit coming. Pulling a classic older sibling move, she set her palm on his forehead and extended her arm so she was well out of his reach.

"Damian, you can either calm down or you can cut my hand off. Either way, I'm game."

He continued to scowl, dropping his arm from its half raised position.

"You shouldn't be giving away so much information. I know mother taught you better than that."

Marinette just rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders.

"Talia taught me better with untrustworthy contacts. He worked with my grandmother for many years. I would trust this man with my life. Just like grandmama did."

The stern look her features had taken on told Damian that argument was over and he had no chance of changing her mind. Sighing softly, he swatted her hand away. His face was the usual stoic mask she was used to around people he didn't know, and she chuckled softly.

"Alfred, would you mind showing us where we'll be sleeping?"

"Certainly young miss. Follow me."

And follow they did.

~~~~~

Dinner was fairly tame. As far as Marinette knew, none of Bruce's wards were home for at least another week. That would be ample time for Damian to become comfortable with his new surroundings. Still, he was quite uncomfortable at the moment.

Bruce's girlfriend had joined them for dinner. She was quite pretty, if not shifty. The girl did not trust her. It appeared Selina Kyle did not trust them either. That was perceptive of her. Marinette had to commend the woman's instincts. They appeared to be quite sharp.

"So Bruce, does your lady friend happen to know about your hobby?"

The aforementioned man bristled slightly. Selina arched a brow.

"Yes, I'm well aware of his nighttime activities. How do you know?"

Marinette just arched a darkly hued brow.

"I was referring to his habit of collecting children, but that hobby works too. The caped crusader here is someone we'll be around quite often, so we were given all his information, including his alter ego before we got here. Mostly for . . . precautionary reasons."

Selina didn't miss the way Marinette's fingers twitched around her silverware, or the dangerous glint in her eyes. She decided she liked this girl. Turning to Bruce with a slight grin, she pointed to the teenager with her fork.

"Don't even think about it Bruce. She's mine."

Marinette, for her part, looked confused. She had just hinted at hurting this woman's mate. Didn't she care? Or was she just not worried. At the thought, her expression became cold.

"You would do well to understand that my more amicable demeanor and age hide someone quite dangerous."

Selina looked back to her with that same smug grin.

"Oh I'm well aware."

Damian almost smirked. Almost.

"It appears you've been adopted."

To say that Marinette was confused was a drastic understatement. 

~~~~~

When Dick was told that Bruce had taken in two more children, this was . . . not what he was expecting. He had come into the house expecting two thin, maybe slightly bruised kids Bruce had found somewhere in Gotham stuffing their faces or playing video games. What he did **not** expect, was what he got.

He asked where the new additions were, and was told by an amused Alfred that they were down in the bat cave. He had blinked his baby blues for a moment and thought that maybe Bruce had adopted them from a villain (that part wasn't technically wrong) and wanted them to know they were in good hands. But again, he was surprised.

Down in the bat cave, a sparring match was being held between two foreign looking children who were doing what he assumed was cursing in another language. The girl seemed to be goading the smaller boy as she dodged and weaved around him like she could do it all day.

"Ealayk 'an tataharak 'asrae min dhlk Shaytan!" ( _You have to move faster than that demon!_ )

"Sawf jalidak eindama 'amsik bik Malak!" ( _I will skin you when I catch you angel!_ )

The boy let out a frustrated noise, and Dick could visibly see his need to hit the girl. He moved to step in, and a familiar voice caused him to pause.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you little bird."

Seline looked to be enjoying the bout, laying artfully across the railing overlooking the cave. Her eyes stayed firmly pinned to the girl, who was finally getting serious. The temperature in the room seemed to drop fifteen degrees as the girl's demeanor changed so fast it gave him whiplash. He chose to ignore Selina's words, and approached cautiously. Still, before he was within ten feet of them there were two swords at his neck. Were those real? Why would Bruce let two kids fight with real swords? It was the boy who spoke.

"Who are you and what do you want? Answer or lose your tongue."

Selina chuckled from her perch, sitting up with an ease that made it obvious that this was her normal resting place down here.

"This is Bruce's oldest. His name is Richard, but he prefers Dick. Likely he's returned early to meet the two of you. Little bird, this is Bruce's blood son Damian and his childhood friend Marinette."

Damian spent another moment sizing him up before letting his sword fall back to his side. Marinette followed his lead, and gave an almost - _almost_ \- friendly grin. 

"Well, now that the introductions are out of the way if you two have any questions, concerns or anything else I can help with, as your new big brother-"

One of those swords returned to his neck, and he found himself staring down into frigid green.

"You are **not** my brother. I have only one sibling, and she came here with me. Do **not** call yourself my brother. That is not a right you have earned . . . nor one I suspect you ever will."

Damian dropped the sword and took Marinette's hand, dragging her away.

"Come on Malak, let's go."

"Alright Shaytan, but calm yourself."

Dick had so many questions he didn't know where to begin.

Meeting Tim was easier. He was so sleep deprived he barely blinked at the two of them. He'd said hello, told them he'd be around if they needed anything, and left. Marinette was grateful for his apparent lack of interest in being their sibling. She wouldn't have to spend another hour and a half trying to calm Damian enough that she was sure he wouldn't eviscerate anyone.

It wasn't long until Damian had decided he was to be the new Robin. Marinette wanted no part of it, but somehow, Selina had convinced her to don a costume. It wasn't very protective, but she liked it all the same. She'd chosen a leatherlike fabric for her outfit, a pair of pants that tucked nicely into combat boots, a crop top with cross straps in the front, a belt that mimicked a tail that held pouches of useful items, a headband with fluffy cat ears and a domino mask. Selina was a thief, and Marinette could live with that, but they also took down petty crime and took care of the kids on the street. She found it quite enjoyable, and when asked for a name for her mini me, Catwoman had grinned and replied "Why, she's my Midnight Kit."

About a week after the debut of Midnight Kit, Batman was seen around the city with a new Robin. He was less flamboyant than the others, but those colors were unmistakable.

~~~~~

Damian stubbornly resisted any attempts at amiable relationships with the people he now lived with. By the end of his first month, he had traumatized Dick on more than one occasion, set Bruce's favorite suit on fire, almost killed Tim, on several occasions tried (and failed) to maim Alfred, and repeated attempted to kick Selina out.

Still, Marinette remained the same as she had always been toward him. Supportive, loyal to a fault, ready to do whatever was asked of her. She didn't care what it was. In private, Damian really was like a younger brother. They talked about his problems, and how he might better address them. She taught him new things and he taught her in return. They teased each other about their suits. And sometimes, when he couldn't sleep and the night was empty, he would sneak to her room and crawl into her bed. She would sing him the French lullabies she had learned as a child, speak comforting words to him in Arabic. Anything she could do to help.

It wasn't until they'd been with Bruce for about a year that they started meeting other heroes. Mostly the Justice League. Eventually, Jon Kent had come along. He had attached himself to Damian, and while the former assassin claimed **often** and **loudly** that Jon was nothing more than an annoyance, more than once Marinette caught him smiling fondly at his friend.

~~~~~

Almost four years later, it was as Midnight Kit that Marinette first ran across _**him**_. A skintight red shirt and brown jacket of worn leather, black and red pants tucked into boots much like hers, a utility belt the likes of which she'd only seen on the bat team and their associates, and a deep red helmet. The eye slits bothered her to no end, and she set her hands on her hips.

"You know, if you're going to be a vigilante then you should at least dress semi admirably. Where _did_ you come across that gods-awful helmet? I must know. I'll have the place burned."

The answering chuckle was a familiar one, and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"It's good to see you too little bluebird."

She would forever deny that her voice cracked when she called out to him. Or that the tears had already begun to gather after so long without hearing that voice. 

"But you- . . . you're dead again. Mistress Talia said so. The Lazarus Pit couldn't help you . . . It can't be . . . Jason?"

He pulled his helmet off and shook out long black hair with a single white streak she had run her fingers over gently many a time as she watched over him and waited for him to wake up. Those blue eyes she'd looked into as she helped him to calm down when he finally opened them crinkled at the edges with his sardonic smile.

"It's me alright. How's it hangin' Miyu?"

She hadn't heard that name in years. Hit with a longing she hadn't known she still had the emotional capacity to feel, she had the strong urge to cry. She launched herself into his chest and hit her fists against him weakly.

"You left! You were gone! I thought you were dead. You left me. . . . You jerk."

He just held her and let her sort through her emotions. After going so long with only the familiar darkness for company, it was good to see her again. The first face he'd seen when he'd woken in Nanda Parbat. The first person he'd ever been truly sure cared about him.

He remembered very little about his time in Pakistan, but he remembered everything about her. The gentle way she spoke to him when his anger got the best of him. The tears she'd shed when he got hurt. The arms that had clung to him as she calmed down from the nightmares that wouldn't let her rest. He remembered it all. He vaguely recalled a little boy who looked suspiciously like the newest Robin, but that didn't matter right now.

All that matter was that once again, he could feel those arms clinging to him as though he'd disappear and hear hear breaths even as she schooled her emotions, and it felt like no time had passed at all.

"I know bluebird, but I couldn't bare to say goodbye to you . . . will you ever forgive me?"

She sniffed softly, making sure her voice would not crack this time.

"I don't know, but hold me for a few more minutes and I'll think about it."

He just chucked softly.

"Anything for you bluebird . . . Anything."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The color of the midnight sky had never looked so beautiful in the heavens as it did on Marinette.

Jason refused to come back to the manor with Marinette. He's said he wouldn't step one foot inside. But somehow, someway, she had convinced him anyways. And really, if it made her smile, Jason couldn't bring himself to be too upset with the situation. Alfred had been quite surprised when two motorcycles roared into the bat cave instead of one. On them, Midnight Kit and Red Hood.

Red Hood removed his helmet and shook out his hair like a dog, making Marinette laugh. She took off her mask and took her waist length hair out of its high ponytail. It fell down her back in graceful waves, and Jason was momentarily mesmerized. The color of the midnight sky had never looked so beautiful in the heavens as it did on Marinette. Though, he was actively ignoring the fact that she was using that name. To him, she would always be Miyuki, his little bluebird. The girl who sang for him as she waited for him to wake from the Lazarus Pit.

Locking his jaw, he followed her up into the manor itself. The bat mobile pulled in as he pulled the door shut behind them, and he cringed slightly. No turning back now. If he wanted to get to his bike, he'd have to face them. The family he'd left behind. He was distracted from his thoughts by Miyuki slipping her hand gently into his. She was humming softy, and he recognized the song. A French lullaby she'd used to sing for him when he was upset or angry. It brought a tentative smile to his lips.

"Are you alright Jason?"

Her voice was music, a soft cadence that sharply contrasted his own gruff tones. Still, somehow she seemed to like the way the sounded together. He followed her without question, and she led him to her hobby room. Which was so very her.

Scattered about in opposite corners of the room were comfortable looking chairs and stylish end tables. Her walls were a tasteful maroon color, and the rest of the room was littered with targets, test dummies, sparring mats and art supplies. It was such a strange blend, but it was so uniquely her. He noted the paintings along the walls, colors on the cool spectrum unless she decided to use red. She didn't often, but when she did it added emphasis and drew the eye.

Which was why the painting of him caught his attention immediately. She had painted him in striking red, looking well groomed and put together. There was a secret smile across his lips, and she'd managed to make his blue eyes sparkle, deep and mysterious. Was that how she saw him?

She watched him examine the painting, a bit nervous though she wasn't sure why. Only her opinion mattered when it came to her paintings. Usually she had a model, but she'd painted him from memory. Why was it that she wanted him to like it?

"This is how you see me?"

His voice was rife with emotion, though she couldn't tell much more than that. She didn't know what he wanted to her, so she answered truthfully.

"It is. That's a look I didn't see on your face often, but when I did it made me happy. I like making you smile. Especially that smile . . . what do you think?"

What did he think? He thought she was a fantastic artist. If she could make someone like him look good, he wondered what she could do with things that were pretty to begin with.

"I think it's fantastic. You should try landscapes. It would be nice to see something like that around the manor. Make it seem a little less stuffy."

Marinette chuckled softly, shaking her head. Her paintings stayed here. In her little room where few people ever saw them. She didn't care much whether or not most people liked them, because most people would never see them. They were beautiful as far as she was concerned, and she wanted to protect these fragile works from the cruel reality outside. Even if she couldn't protect the people or the places in them, she could protect the images from her memory. Miyuki painted the past. The one thing that could never be taken away. But she didn't tell Jason that. It was no one's business but hers. Besides, she didn't know how much he had changed. Years apart were enough to change anyone. She didn't now how much of the boy from her memories was left. She could not- would not give herself hope that he was still the same. So she kept her childish notions to herself with an offhand comment.

"Maybe I will."

~~~~~

Damian had never liked Jason Todd.

Alfred called him "Master Jason" when he informed them of his presence, though he hadn't set foot in the manor in years. Bruce bristled at the sound of his name. He seemed unsettled. Dick and Tim just looked sad and continued about their business. He'd heard all about Jason Todd, the mess his mother had helped make.

As far as he could figure, somewhere in the multiverse Superboy Prime had punched reality. This world's Jason Todd had risen from the dead and been found wandering and vacant by one Talia al Ghul. She'd put him under in the Lazarus Pits and let him recover to use against Bruce. A Pit Maddened boy wonder was supposed to be her weapon against him. But she hadn't liked how much time he spent with her apprentice, or that he was starting to remember his life before his death. She'd honed and remade him already, using him as executioner to those who opposed her. He'd served his purpose well, even if it hadn't been his original purpose, so she spared his life. She'd sent him away.

It had broken Miyuki's heart, and they were told that Jason had died again in pursuit of their enemies. That the Pits weren't enough to bring back what was left of him. So even though he hadn't liked Jason, or the amount of attention he got from Talia and Miyuki, he had helped his pseudo sister hold a small memorial service for him. He had been told Jason died in service to the League. For that he had the boy's grudging respect.

So to say that the news he was alive rubbed Damian the wrong way was a gross understatement. He had held Miyuki while she cried over his death. While she mourned him. He had sat with her at his memorial to honor a life taken in service of his family. Of their ultimate goal. For him to be alive shamed them. He was fine with the League being shamed and taken lightly, but not his sister. Not the tears she'd cried over him or the years she'd spent missing him. Not her broken heart as she lay awake and stared out at the sky in Nanda Parbat and even years later in Gotham.

Jason may not have intended it, but his presence alone was a smear on Marinette's honor. And that, Damian could not allow.

~~~~~

When Alfred came to find Marinette and Jason for dinner, he didn't expect what he found. Jason and Marinette were both dressed in shorts and t-shirts on Marinette's sparring mats. Jason was firmly pinned, and tapped out when he saw the butler standing at the door. His dark haired companion released him, vaulting to her feet. He followed suit and brushed himself off. She just giggled, cheeks pink with exertion and amusement.

"Is there something you need Alfred?"

The man cleared his throat, straightening his tie.

"Dinner is prepared Miss Marinette. Will you be joining us Master Jason?"

The younger male shifted uncomfortably, understandably nervous.

" . . . With the whole family?"

Marinette watched him for a moment, turning back to Alfred.

"Would you mind giving us a few minutes? Jason hasn't been feeling to well. I'll let you know in ten minutes whether or not he'll be joining us."

He nodded lightly, bowing.

"Certainly. I shall return promptly in ten minutes."

When Alfred left, she turned her eyes to Jason with a searching look.

"Jay, you don't have to. If you want to skip out, no one would blame you."

Jason swallowed hard, shaking his head.

" . . . It's okay bluebird. I'm no coward."

When Alfred returned ten minutes later, Miyuki and Jason were dressed in normal pants and band t-shirts, and her hair was twisted up into a braided bun. She asked if he was ready.

"Totally. Let's get going."

It was an obvious lie, but she didn't question what he knew she had seen right through. She led the way, and he followed like a soldier going to war. In a way, he was. It was time to face the music.


	4. Unhinged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is perhaps not as put together as he appears.

After the pits, Jason had always been a little . . . Unstable. He had always been willing to go further than Bruce or Dick. He'd definitely been more willing than his replacement. The only Robin he had any respect for that wasn't him was the most recent. Damian. The only other Robin who'd ever ended a life. Not because he'd taken life, but because he was willing to do whatever it took to get rid of the scum that preyed on the weak. It was something Jason could respect, and because of that he had a tentative truce with the little squirt. The rest of the bats though, were fair game. **_The rest of the bats_ ,** whispered the madness that clung to him, clouding his mind like fog, **_were expendable_.** _The rest of the bats,_ intoned his subconscious, _were hypocrites_.

His Bluebird settled a hand over his, and he looked over at her with eyes he knew were Lazarus green. They'd been blue before he went in. And occasionally they became a lighter sea foam color when he was feeling particularly agreeable, for most of the time they were a toxic green that had burned its way through what was left of his morality. He had a code, sure. One he has carefully thought through and fine tuned to be the most effective. Much like Miyuki's from what he'd heard on the street.

Jason Todd- the Red Hood- killed people. But only the big bads. The people who took advantage of people with no other way to get by and forced them to hurt others. The people who brought foreign guns onto Gotham soil to enact their schemes. Those people he terminated with extreme prejudice. But the minions he spared for the most part, knocking them unconscious or injuring them just enough to keep them on the ground. Sometimes somebody got mouthy and said something he didn't like, but that might earn them a knife cut and a threat to keep them quiet, or a boot to the face depending on his mood.

Miyuki squeezed his hand, and he was brought back to reality, looking around the table. Ah yes, the infamous Wayne family. Gotham's late night protectors. He'd almost forgotten where he was for a moment. ' _ **In enemy territory** '_ whispered the beckoning pits. ' _Home_.' whispered his traitorous heart. Not that he paid much mind to either, looking around again to note the subdued conversation and the glances his way every now and again. From Bruce ' ** _Your failed mission_**.' ' _Your father_.' From Dick ' ** _Your competition_ '** _'Your Brother_ '. From Tim ' ** _Your replacement'_** ' _Your successor_ '. From Alfred ' ** _The man you failed the most_** ' ' _The man who raised you to be strong_ '. From Damian ' ** _The child you left with twisted Talia al Ghul'_** _'The little boy who idolized you'_. Even from his beloved Bluebird ' ** _The girl you abandoned_** ' ' _The girl who still loves you'_. His subconscious and the pits seemed to agree on one thing. He had failed everyone at this table.

~~~~~

Dinner did not go well. Marinette could admit that much. But it hadn't gone badly either. Bruce hadn't pulled his disappointed father act (Alfred and Dick had threatened him, she suspected) and Damian had only glared at Jason as much as everyone else. Alfred had tried his best to look in as often as he could, trying to keep watch over the situation. And she had kept a hand on Jason's for most of the dinner. He didn't want to stay, and she didn't force him to. But it was awfully hard to say goodbye now that she knew he was here.

"Are you sure you have to go? I could really use some company. The guys are great but . . . Well, they don't really get me. And none of them are exactly sparkling conversationalists."

Jason chuckled, dressed back up in his red hood suit sans the helmet, sitting astride his motorcycle.

"I'm sure Miyu. You know I'd love to spend more time with you, but I really can't be here longer than I already have been. This isn't my life anymore. Once, I was part of this family, yeah . . . But those days are long gone little Bluebird. I won't intrude any further."

She poured childishly, lower lip jutting out and making Jason melt. He sighed softly, sea foam green eyes sparkling with amusement, and spoke again.

"I probably shouldn't, but . . . How about we meet up tomorrow? There's this little cafe downtown, it's a little close to crime alley, but it's a nice place. It's called Suzie's. They're under my protection."

Marinette's lips twitched as she (unseccessfully) tried to stop herself from smiling.

"Why Jason Todd, are you asking me on a date?"

He grinned at her, leaning forward on his handlebars.

"About time, right?"

Marinette just giggled.

"I'd love to. I'll meet you there for lunch."

Jason's smile turned soft, and he reached a hand to caress her cheek.

"Alright . . . I'll meet you there at noon."

She returned his soft look. 

"I'll see you then . . ."

There was silence for a moment, like the whole world was holding its breath. And maybe it was. Eyes closed automatically as they closed the space between them and poured all their hurt and longing and _love_ into the first kiss they'd ever shared. When they pulled apart, Marinette kept her eyes closed a moment longer, before opening them to find soft sea foam green watching her with the sweetest look. She opened her mouth to speak, an amused twinkle to her eyes.

"Worth the wait."

Jason just chuckled.

"Yeah . . . You absolutely are."

And before she could really think about that, he was speeding out of the bat cave. She touched two fingers to her lips, a dazed look on her face.

From the top of the stairs leading back to the house, Damian pulled a face. He **_really_** did not like Jason Todd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm trying to ease back into updates for my stories, I'm gonna give myself a schedule. Every 2 or three days I'll post a new chapter of a story. Sometimes sooner if I have particular inspiration.
> 
> I'll probably cycle through all my Miraculous and Maribat stories about twice and then I'll go through and try to write the ones with the most demand out in their entirety (not counting Red Kingdom, I adopted that one and so help me I will be finishing it in a timely manner!) and from there I'll repeat the cycle adding in whatever new stories I happen to think up or adopt into the mix.  
> Cool?  
> Cool.
> 
> That said, ultimately what I finish first is up to the readers. For the most part I have a lot of these planned out almost in their entirety so really it's just based on what you as readers want to see more of! So let me know and I'll hopefully be able to prioritize it. First come first served and I'll probably base how many additional chapters I add on the amount of requests for that story. For example I may go by twos so four comments for a particular story might be a good two or three chapters.
> 
> (And if you have any ideas about what you might like to see in a particular fanfic I'd be happy to hear and possibly incorporate some of those ideas!)
> 
> If you made it this far, have fun voting and/or suggesting! Thank you!


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